Tag Archives: stella nuance

Fresh from a relaxing sojourn in more troubled parts of the world, say hello once again to your favorite unwholesome helpmate, the Miss Manners of the massacre, Stella Nuance.

Listen up, ya mugs, I’ve been busy. I scored a pretty sweet consulting gig with Idi Amin. Crazy coot was trying to make a “comeback,” as his people put it. Comeback, what, now he’s Jamie Lee Curtis? What a piece of work. Couldn’t complain about the service at the villa, but try making a suggestion to that guy! I was nice as pie, “Aw, Idi, baby, you hired me for MY expertise, right? And my expertise says you should wear an ascot. NO, it doesn’t make you look chubby.” That sonofabitch wouldn’t know “avuncular” if it bit him on the ass. Needless to say, I had to extricate myself from my contract a bit early. Stella doesn’t take any guff.

So after hiding out for a few days, I’ve been thinking a lot about how a good lair really is the foundation to most of villainy. It’s the seat of professionalism, after all. Who’s going to believe you’re worth the dough if you’re still using a cell phone the size of a brick and loitering in the back of a rusted out Suburban? No way, we’re doing it up right. You need business cards so thick you could use one to slit a man’s throat (I recommend a nice brushed metal), and enough furniture to convince the boys from the IRS that it’s an actual working office.

First stop: a new computer.

Now I fancy this one not just because it’s illegal to export it to certain countries. I’m a sucker for packaging, and this new G5 is clearly a product of an Evil industrial design team. It could also be camouflaged as a microwave oven if one were to be raided for one’s files. Either way, don’t put a cat in it.

Form AND function! Never miss another message, and no more fumbling around for poultry shears when you really need them, during, say, negotiations with an independent contractor. And those clips have many a use “in a pinch.”

What could be more evil than Pottery Barn? Try keeping one these phones around for an air of legitimacy.

Never plug it in though, the feds will be on that like flies on pig shit. Yeah, I know, “80 clams for a phone, Stella?” It’s a bit steep, but have you ever tried cold-cocking someone with one of those receivers? Effective and unexpected. And the red one also keeps the Cold War excitement alive.

So now that I’ve covered the Do’s, let’s get to my favorite part: the Don’ts. Don’t work too hard. That’s what the help is for. And ergonomics are so very important. Experts recommend avoiding repetitive motions. To that end, for office discipline problems, choose a taser over a flail or a cat o’ nine tails. Don’t skimp on a good chair either. The help can make do with kneeling on the floor, after all, their childish bones are softer! But you should go ahead and spring for the Aeron for yourself. If mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.

Now, now, no need to thank me for this wealth of advice, I’ll have my assistant prepare an invoice. Pepito! Take dictation!

Lately we’ve been mulling over the fact that, for the foolish, crime just does not pay. Everywhere you look, there’s some poor chump getting hauled off to the pokey. People leave evidence in plain sight, canâ€™t seem to get their stories straight. From Makeshift Chambers of Horror to the obvious purloining of panties, we are awash in incompetence. Why, your lie is as plain as the nose on your face! Do you ever wonder “How’s a poor maroon like me supposed to make a dishonest living these days?”

Weâ€™re sick and tired of bungled dirty dealings, and we’ve enlisted a professional to help our readers: Enter Stella Nuance, the amoral Ann Landers, the deceitful Dear Abby, the Heloise of heinousness. Must we disturb the peace with our horrid proclivities? Stella says “No!”

An open letter to Heidi Erickson, Beacon Hill Cat Lady

Ok, doll, hereâ€™s the scoop. Your business, while admirably fiendish, is simply not sustainable. Did you really think you wouldnâ€™t get banned from Boston with a strategy that includes animals that expire so quickly? Bostonâ€™s a small town, and people have big yaps. Nothing better to do than flap their gums about your putrid pussies. The key is to move around. Try Reno, itâ€™s a dry heat.

You definitely went wrong with your choice of venue. Why pick a small apartment in a highly populated ritzy neighborhood? You could have rented a whole triple decker in Roxbury for that kind of scratch, installed bank vault doors, sound proofing, and spritzed the whole place up and down with Skin So Soft. No one would been the wiser, and the police donâ€™t even GO to that neighborhood. Hell, you could have even had a little shed out back.

So your choice for a lair was iffy. But you could have still pulled it off if you didnâ€™t get lazy and stack those frozen peas in front of Princess Patty Paw. The Charles River is mere blocks away. It works for disposing of the corpses of crack whores and show cats alike! Donâ€™t forget, weight them down! Failing that, you should have scored some embalming equipment and those pull-out morgue drawers if you really needed to keep those things around. No posh chamber of horrors is without such niceties. Or what about taxidermy? “That’s not a criminal mishap, thatâ€™s just Fluffy!”

Finally, when cornered by the authorities, donâ€™t ever represent yourself! If you canâ€™t get Johnnie Cochran, so what, even a public defender knows when to sit down and stand up. For cryinâ€™ out loud, go get a haircut, a smart suit, and shut your pie hole. Lose the pancake makeup, it makes you look like you have something to hide. No one likes a frumpy villainess. Didnâ€™t you see Chicago? Christ. I can see I have my work cut out.